Shadow of the Son, page 2
“What do you want to do?”
“Speak with him.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“No, but news travels fast it seems, and some things can’t be avoided indefinitely.”
Johnny passed me the phone and took the line off hold.
“So you’re Percy?”
The voice on the other end had a French accent and sounded far away.
“Yes, I am.”
“My name is Bernard Montrel, Bruni’s soon-to-be ex-husband. Listen, for I have little time. I harbor no ill feeling toward you, as unlikely as that may sound. I doubt there was much you could have done to avoid the position you’re in. I was in a similar place. How dire it was I had no way of knowing. You face similar perils, which is why I tracked you down. Someone must say something. Trust no one in that family. Their loyalty is only to themselves. She will wrap you in silky threads and spin you round and round, before she sucks you dry. Remember, I had the courtesy to give you fair warning. C’est tout.”
The line went dead.
2
“Trouble?” asked Johnny.
“Without a doubt.”
“Why am I not surprised? Tell me.”
I repeated what Bernard had said. Johnny didn’t answer right away but rocked back in his chair and looked out the window at the office building across the street.
“I think this qualifies as an ‘Iago’ moment,” he said at last, turning to face me. “There is poison in the man’s words. If you were Othello, I’d advise you to ignore him completely, but you’re not. You’re my friend, and as your friend, my loyalty is only to you, irrespective of the state of your future marriage or other relationships. You may not like what I have to say. Should I continue?”
“Disliking what you have to say wouldn’t be particularly new, would it?”
“I suppose not, but this is different. I know how I am when I’m involved with someone. I can barely see straight, let alone listen to reason. Speak against the one I love, and I struggle to contain myself.”
Johnny’s love affairs had been a surprising source of trouble. They were incessant, tumultuous, and created endless difficulties for both of us. I was the one he turned to for advice, which he invariably misinterpreted, misconstrued, or plain ignored at critical moments.
“I understand,” I said. “I was always careful about commenting on your love affairs for that reason. We are different in that regard, but I get your point. It’s personal.”
“Remember when we first met the von Hofmanstals, and our heads were filled with suspicions about them?”
“I think I was more than a little paranoid at the time.”
“Indeed, but remember we were right in our initial assessment. The baron did want Alice’s treasures and was there to obtain them. The parents, on the other hand, told us more than once that they were good people and worth knowing. My suspicions were quieted, but, in truth, never laid to rest. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Bruni is a good match for you, and I have a high opinion of your future in-laws, but they have their own agendas. Their family is not my family. And Bruni’s former husband presented no hard evidence other than his opinion, but if it were me, I doubt I would have expended the time and effort necessary to find you. Other than a genuine attempt to warn you, I can see no other motive for tracking you down. Would you agree?”
“It’s quite likely,” I answered. “Although I sensed some vindictiveness in his words.”
“There might be some of that. Talk to your butler and majordomo. If Stanley says Bernard’s claims are nothing, then dismiss them from your mind, and I’ll do the same. But should Stanley think there’s something to it, I’d definitely want to know what he would advise.”
“Perhaps this weekend.”
“Sooner is better. In fact, I recommend we drive up to Rhinebeck now. You can talk to Stanley, revisit your property, and I can speak with Father. After that, we can all have dinner together, and you and I can drive back tomorrow morning. Besides, there’s always Dagmar’s cooking to feed the soul, an opportunity not to be missed. She might have some words as well.”
“Why now, when I’ll be there on Friday?”
“I’ll get to that. My further advice is speak to Bruni. Tell her about the phone call, but I think the chat with Stanley should be a private one. Not because I distrust her, but because it will allow a more free-flowing conversation that may not be possible this weekend when she’ll be there.”
“No Bruni then.”
“That’s what I recommend.”
I had some reservations about going back earlier than I had planned, but returning now seemed the better choice given the nature of the call.
“Very well. I agree. It would be a prudent move. That being said, I’m more than willing to welcome whatever von Hofmanstal secrets, machinations, or eccentricities exist. I made that decision when I decided to marry Bruni. It’s part of the package, and I accept all its implications.”
“That’s as it should be. More information has never been a problem. It’s the lack that causes difficulties, from what I’ve seen. You have a chance to lay any and all suspicions to rest, and that can only be good.”
“Or inflate them.”
“That, too, but, if it were me, I’d rather be forewarned, than not. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s settled then. I’ll get my assistant to arrange a car and make an appointment with the leasing agent. On another matter, which this last call brings front and center, you will be getting married, and our relationship will change. Both of us will have to adapt, and that may be hard. Whatever happens, I don’t want to become a pain or a burden to you.”
“I doubt that’s possible. We’re entering a new configuration is all, and since you and I are partners again, I’ll likely spend as much time with you as with Bruni. I’m not worried about that aspect, even if you might be.”
“I am, a little. Still, I feel better having mentioned it. Now, I’ll speak to my assistant and give you some privacy to make your call.”
As Johnny left, I reached over his desk and dialed the baron’s office. Bruni was his in-house attorney. A receptionist answered and put me through to my fiancée after a short wait.
“Percy, it’s been so long.”
“A couple of hours, but it seems like forever.”
“It does. Time slows when we’re apart. What’s up?”
“I had a couple of interesting calls. The first was from your father. He wants to meet me for dinner tomorrow at 21, just the two of us.”
“Lucky you. You’ll have the sole?”
“Since he’s paying, absolutely. I also had a call from your ex.”
“Oh? What did he have to say?”
With that question and tone, Bruni had switched to her professional mode. I repeated what he had said in full.
She paused for a moment. “Bernard is skillful. He’s managed to let you know that he accepts that he and I are done, while sowing a seed of doubt between us, hoping it will grow. He’s trouble, but we won’t have to worry about him much longer. You should also know that my family, your family-to-be, always has an agenda. There will never be a time when there isn’t something cooking. My father would go mad if that wasn’t the case. Both my parents like you a great deal, which means you’ll be part of whatever it is they have in mind, and I want that as well. By the way, last night was delicious, but tonight I have to work. Expect me very late.”
“That may prove a benefit. I should also tell you that Johnny and I have decided to renew our partnership, but he wants his father’s blessing. John Sr. and Anne will be in Rhinebeck tonight as part of a long weekend. I thought I’d drive up with Johnny and return tomorrow morning. I’ll also have a chance to speak to Stanley, check out Alice’s apartment, and make any needed adjustments before you and I drive up on Friday.”
“I think that’s sensible. I also feel that a partnership with Johnny’s a good idea. You’re good for each other. Besides, I have to look over a monstrous business proposal before a meeting tomorrow. I might even sleep at the office.”
“At your desk?”
“There’s a bedroom here. It’s tiny, but there’s a shower, and a change of clothes.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“And I’ll miss you. I can’t wait to drive up with you on Friday. By the way, I wouldn’t read any ghost stories before bed tonight.”
“Not a chance. I intend to sleep like a baby.”
“Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you.”
3
I hung up the phone. While I waited for Johnny to finish making arrangements, I thought about Rhinebeck. Inevitably, that started the train of thought that had drifted in and out of my mind ever since I’d left. I wanted to savor the timeless beauty that awaited me, but I was uneasy. As the chauffeur-driven limousine had swept up the drive, I had heard someone calling out, imploring me to come back. The voice had been clear enough to cause me to twist and look behind, but as I peered back through the swirling fog in the car’s wake, I had seen no one.
At the time, I had debated whether what I’d heard was real or my imagination playing tricks on me. Over the years at Rhinebeck, I had occasionally heard peculiar sounds or vague murmurings at the edges of my hearing in late afternoons. Whispers would move among the shadows in the drawing room, behind the curtains in the library, or pass me as I climbed the stairs to the top floor. I would turn, or follow, but always they moved off until I couldn’t hear them anymore. I had spoken to Johnny about them, but he would shrug his shoulders and say, “I haven’t heard such things. It could be your imagination, but maybe not. The place is strange, what can I say?”
Johnny may not have been able to confirm the things I’d heard, but he and I both agreed that there was something odd about the west wing where Alice, Johnny’s aunt, had lived and died. Growing up, we had entered her apartment only when invited, and such occasions had been brief and far between. After Alice had died and passed to places we could only imagine, we had sometimes felt we were being watched. A chill would settle over the house, and cheery spaces would grow dark and gloomy. The staff would be on edge and inclined to whisper. Even Stanley would be affected, his normal ghostlike service more tentative and unsure. Dagmar in her kitchen would snap at anybody who was moving slowly, which, according to her, was everyone.
Johnny and I never knew what caused such feelings, only that the house was unsettled and disturbed. We would be good as gold until the feeling dissipated, and we could gravitate to our normal antics with little to fear, other than being assigned more chores when we went too far.
From my first visit, the house had projected an aura of mystery and a brooding watchfulness. Deep currents moved beneath the surface. I remembered Rhinebeck’s dark gray exterior looming out of the fog on a threatening afternoon in December just before Christmas.
Johnny had briefed me on the estate’s many secret hiding places, but most of all, he had wanted to introduce me to Alice, his favorite aunt. Not only did she have an uncanny ability to thwart mischief, he informed me, but an alarming prescience that was vaguely comforting. He was unable to articulate such feelings at the time, other than to warn me to guard my thoughts, as he was willing to bet his aunt was able to read minds, including mine. I considered the implications and was more than a little intimidated from the outset.
If she could read my mind, then she would know how tentative my existence was, and how I yearned for a sense of belonging. She would also know the loneliness and the darkness that lay within my soul, and that was more than I was willing to convey to anyone. I fretted over this as I endured the long drive to meet her.
We had turned down the sloping driveway to the squared roundabout that marked the entrance. I watched the front door open, and a tall woman with jet-black hair stepped out wearing a thin, cream-colored dress that seemed to defy the bleakness of the weather. She stood alone at the top of the steps as she waited. She smiled as the car approached, but for a moment I saw a flicker of something else. It might have been that she too anticipated our meeting with a sense of trepidation. I wondered at the reason. She knew Johnny and Raymond, Mr. Dodge’s chauffeur, therefore that passing emotion must’ve been due to meeting either the new nanny or myself. That I could elicit such a feeling was inconceivable, but in that brief moment of vulnerability, my heart went out to her. I saw that she, years older and an adult, was as alone and fearful as I was.
As we crunched around the driveway toward the front door, I watched a man in a somber morning suit step out, drape a dark blue shawl about her shoulders, and then step to the side. The car stopped, but Johnny didn’t wait for Raymond to open the door. He flung it open himself as the nanny squawked, and he dragged me along in his enthusiasm to be the first to introduce me to his aunt.
Johnny bounded up the steps with me in tow and announced, “This is Percy. He’s staying with us.”
The lady smiled and leaned slightly toward me as she held out her hand. Still caught in that precious moment of impossible connection, I stepped in close and hugged her waist. She laughed and said, “Whoa, little man. Here we do things a little differently, but I thank you just the same. I’m Alice.”
I stepped back a little flustered, but as I looked into her dark eyes, they sparkled with a pleasure that seemed to focus only on me.
“My name is Percy,” I said, looking up at her.
“Yes, it is. And this is Stanley,” she said, turning toward the man in the dark suit next to her. Something passed between them, and then he looked down at me. I stuck out my hand, but he didn’t take it. I let it drop to my side. He examined me with bright blue eyes that could have hidden any emotion, or none at all. He didn’t speak but only nodded. And so Stanley, a few seconds after Alice, entered my life as I had entered into his.
“Dreaming again?”
I jumped. Johnny had entered and stood at the door observing me. I shuddered and said, “I was thinking.”
“Ah, yes. You do seem a tad jumpy. Tell me about that in the car. It’s out front.”
4
A chauffeur from the limo service opened the rear door for us and went around to the driver’s side. He started up and threaded through New York City traffic, while Johnny and I stretched out in the back. Once we were on our way, Johnny rolled up the dividing window and asked the driver a question. He didn’t answer.
“He can’t hear us, so we can speak freely. Now, you seem agitated. Speak to me.”
I hesitated before answering and looked at the passing scenery instead. Once again, I asked myself whether what I’d heard as I left Rhinebeck had been real or imagined and was unable to make up my mind. On top of that, I had begun to recognize the possibility that I was hopelessly ill-prepared to manage an estate the size of Rhinebeck. What would happen to the intangible legacies and those who depended on me should I fail?
Fail and nothing would be forgiven, Dagmar had said, and that there would be consequences. But what exactly and from whom, I didn’t know.
Over the years, I had come to believe that whatever lay at the mystical center of Rhinebeck was not altogether friendly. I had always sensed a reluctant neutrality that could be withdrawn at any time. My awareness of that something had frightened me growing up, particularly in the dead of night when I would awaken for no reason other than that something had disturbed my sleep.
I had ignored such provocations as best I could, but I was not always successful.
When moonlight streamed through the single round window of my room, and I had been awakened, I would peer out from underneath the covers at the familiar shapes of my desk and chair. Nothing would appear out of place, but I could never be sure. My imagination would grapple with the things I couldn’t see, and I would pull the covers over my head to quiet it. Sleep would eventually find me, but not before I had distressed myself to exhaustion. Other times, when there was no moon, I would sit up in the black and whisper softly to whatever listened, “Go away.” Silence or a breath of air would be the answer.
After many such occurrences, I couldn’t contain my anxiety any longer. I mentioned what I had experienced to Johnny. His answer was simple. “Make a bargain,” he told me. “It’s what I did.”
I took his advice and cut a deal of sorts. That night, whispering to the darkness, I agreed to say nothing to anyone about the moody perturbations that would awaken me, but only if I might be left alone. It seemed to work. The incidents grew less frequent. I thanked Johnny for his advice a week later. He shook his head as if to say that the walls might hear us and then nodded in agreement. We didn’t speak about it after that.
Back in the present, I sighed and looked out at the countryside. I did feel agitated.
Finally, after a long pause, I turned to Johnny. “I’ve been a little reluctant to return to Rhinebeck, if you must know. That may be surprising, but there it is. I heard someone, or something, call out to me as we drove away the last time. It could have been my imagination. I chose to disregard that call, and now I’m returning. I don’t know what will happen. Also, the intuition that I had when I was last at Rhinebeck has gone.”
“Gone?”
“Disappeared. Its silence began the same time we left.”
“That is troubling. What do you think is going on?”
“I really don’t know. I’m in uncharted territory.”
“What exactly happened when we left? You never told me any of this.”
“I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t sure I really heard anything. As we were driving away, a voice called out for me to return. I sensed an urgency and perhaps a longing. It was sharp but indefinite at the same time. I couldn’t tell precisely the direction it came from.”
“I see,” said Johnny. “I didn’t hear any such thing, but that doesn’t mean that you didn’t. If you want my honest opinion, I don’t know too many people who can change careers, discover Lord Bromley is their father, become engaged, take on an estate the size of Rhinebeck, promise who-knows-what to keep it going, have the von Hofmanstals as future in-laws, and not feel out of sorts. That amount of change is enough to drive anyone ’round the bend. You may be experiencing a simple case of nerves, even if what you heard was real.”
